Free Point of Knives by Melissa Scott

feet, and Rathe copied her. He heard the maid’s footsteps in the hall, and then the sound of the door opening.
    “What’s the matter—”
    “A writ in the Queen’s name,” a man’s voice said. “To seize the property of one Grandad Steen for his heir.”
    “Oh, no, they don’t,” Lulli said, grimly, and swept from the parlor.
    Rathe followed, one hand on the truncheon beneath his coat. It was a badge of office as well as a weapon; he hoped he would only need the former. The maid was pressed back with the door, and two tall men in leather jerkins had forced their way onto the top step.
    “What’s the meaning of this?” Lulli demanded, and the foremost man swept his cap on and off again.
    “Writ of seizure, dame. You might as well let us in, there’s no denying us.”
    “Let me see that writ,” Lulli said, and the leader held it out, but pulled it back when she would have taken it.
    “No, no, dame, I’m not letting you rip it up and claim there never was such a paper.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous,” Lulli snapped. “Let me see it.”
    “Let us in first,” the leader said, and gave the door another hard shove. The maid squeaked and slid backward on the polished floor, and Rathe decided it had gone far enough.
    “What’s this, then?”
    “No business of yours,” the second man rumbled, and the leader gave him an assessing look.
    “It’s a matter for your mistress, not yourself.”
    Rathe sighed theatrically, and let his coat fall open. “But a royal writ is very much my business. What’s your authority?”
    “A royal writ is royal authority,” the leader answered, but his voice was fractionally less certain than his words.
    “Let me see it,” Rathe said. “And don’t tell me I’ll rip it up.”
    The leader handed it across, and Rathe scanned the form. As he’d suspected, it was a bailiff’s writ, engrossed with several large but unimportant advocate’s seals as well as the royal stamp, and he shook his head. “Mind you, I’m tempted, seeing as how this is a bailiff’s writ, which is only by a generous stretch a royal document. And it’s not a writ of seizure, either. It’s a writ of destraint, and it only obliges you, dame, to hold Grandad’s possessions until the courts decide who his heir actually is.” He handed it back to the leader, keeping his free hand close to his truncheon. It would be a bad fight, bad odds, but he thought he could bluff them back. “Who’s your principal? Someone’s sent you on a wild goose chase.”
    “I can’t name her, pointsman, you know that,” the leader said. He glanced over his shoulder, seemed to read something in the other man’s eyes, and took a step back. “Your pardon, dame. But you are required to keep the property intact and inviolate.”
    “I’d do that for my own honor,” Lulli snapped. “And now I’ll have the points seal his room, and no one can go in or out until the matter’s settled.”
    “An excellent idea,” Rathe said. “That should satisfy your principal.”
    The leader nodded slowly. “I’ll give her that word, then.”
    “One thing,” Rathe said. “What points station signed this?”
    The leader hesitated. “Point of Knives.”
    Rathe sighed. It was no more than he’d expected, but it was one more complication. “Right. You’ve earned your fee.”
    The second man peeled himself reluctantly from the door frame, and backed away. The leader followed him, and managed a deliberately too-low bow before he turned away. The maid slammed the door, turning the night locks with trembling hands, and Dame Lulli gathered her into an embrace.
    “They’re gone,” she said. “They’re gone and all’s well.” Her eyes met Rathe’s over the girl’s head, and he nodded.
    “I’ll seal the door,” he said, “if you have wax I can use. And—just for your own peace of mind—does your knife work days?.”
    He hadn’t wanted to frighten the maid further by being more direct, and was pleased when Lulli nodded.